


Fervor

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 03:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12786480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Draco hates being woken up in the middle of the night.  But he likes sex, and he loves Harry.  So maybe it's not so bad after all.





	Fervor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jadepresley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadepresley/gifts).



Draco thinks he must be dreaming because his body feels lax and heavy and his mind is in that weird place somewhere between dreaming and not dreaming where you almost feel as if you’re floating.  Except it must be a dream because he feels cold fingers ghosting across his skin, sliding underneath his shirt and pulling him closer and he definitely remembers falling asleep last night  _alone_.

Then the hands are moving lower, teasing along the waistband of his pajamas.  The touches are so hesitant, almost unsure.  It feels a bit surreal and Draco realizes on some slightly more coherent level that it’s probably not a dream, that there really are strong, calloused fingers dragging his pajamas down before he feels his cock engulfed in a very warm, very wet mouth.  And fuck no he’s definitely not asleep because even his dreams have nothing on the reality of Harry’s sinful mouth.

“Fuck,” he groans, and he feels Harry’s deep laugh more than he hears it, feels it reverberate around his cock as Harry sucks vigorously before pulling his mouth off.  And then he’s looking up at Draco, his eyes alight with something like mischief and he’s still got his bloody Auror robes on, only half undone, and even in the dark Draco can see there’s a scratch across his right cheek.  He looks worn and tired and he clearly didn’t stop off for healing after his mission.  He came home. Came home to Draco.   Home to wake him up for sex apparently.  Bloody wanker Draco thinks, throwing his arm over his face and huffing out a sigh.

He wants to be annoyed, just on premise alone, because Harry knows how much he hates being woken up in the middle of the night.  Except he hasn’t seen the other man in five days and even if his mind isn’t quite ready to wake up his cock obviously is because he’s hard as a rock and lifting his hips up off the bed in a silent plea that Harry answers by swallowing him down as deep as he can.

If Draco weren’t still half asleep he’d probably tease Harry about being over excited because his technique is sloppy and he doesn’t even need to look to know that Harry is practically falling off the bed trying to undress himself without having to take his mouth away.  It makes him smile, thinking about it.  He loves sex with Harry, every kind of sex.  But there’s something about this that feels sacred.  The hint of moonlight streaming through the crack in the curtains and the sort of soft giggles and hopeless desperation he can feel in Harry’s touch as if Draco is the most important thing in the world.  

Harry’s every movement and touch radiates earnestness, and Draco feels nearly dizzy with the intensity of his own need for the other man.   It’s been just a few minutes and he already feels as if his entire body might just explode or short circuit.  It terrifies him sometimes, the power of his want for Harry.  Years together have done nothing to quell that tiny voice in his brain that screams _I want him, he is mine._

The only thing that makes it slightly less terrifying is the fact that Draco is quite positive that even if they don’t say the words often that Harry loves him.  He can feel it in every smile Harry throws his face, and in every touch he gives Draco.

His brain is so addled with sleep and desire it takes him a moment to realize Harry isn’t sucking him off anymore and he opens his eyes, his confusion spreading across his face before he realizes he is crawling up the bed and straddling Draco’s waist, sliding down onto Draco’s cock without a single warning and Draco has to bite back a scream because fuck it all he wasn’t expecting that.  

“Fuck I missed you, so fucking much,” Harry whispers.  And that is the part Draco loves most about this sort of fiercely intense sleepy sex, the way Harry’s mouth falls open while Draco’s cock drags in and out of Harry’s body in the dark as if he isn’t quite as afraid of his feelings.  “I think I nearly got myself killed tonight.  Couldn’t stop thinking about this.  About  _you_.”  He sounds as desperate as Draco feels.

Draco moves his hands to grip Harry’s thighs, his fingers digging into them hard enough to bruise and he’s not sure who he’s trying to anchor Harry or himself.  So he just holds on tighter.  “Don’t do that, you idiot.”

“Fuck I missed your voice too, missed all of you” he mumbles, bending himself in half to kiss Draco as he fucks himself on Draco’s cock.

“Was only five days you giant sappy wanker,” Draco groans, his chest so tight with something he can’t even name that he’s surprised he can even speak because he almost feels like he can’t breathe.

“Don’t lie.  You missed me too,” Harry groans, throwing his head back and picking up the pace.  

Draco almost wishes it weren’t so dark in their bedroom.  He wants to see the line of Harry’s neck and the way he knows the other man’s stomach must be quivering, the way the muscles contract as he lifts himself up and down grinding himself into Draco’s cock hard and fast, trying to take him as deep as humanly possible.  He wants to see the way Harry will open his mouth soon, panting in urgency as he takes his cock in his own hand, the cock which Draco can feel leaking on his stomach.  The cock he knows so well, the hard length with a deep rose tinge to it when he’s aching to come.  

But then Draco just closes his eyes because he doesn’t need to be able to  _see_ to know what it looks like.  He’s seen the sight a million times and it is never enough, won't ever be enough.  Everything he is, every thought in his brain and every inch of his body feels utterly consumed by the other man and it rips the orgasm from his body with no warning, his hips snapping up and his nails nearly breaking the skin as he screams Harry’s name.  And then it’s Harry turn, his orgasm quieter but no less frenzied as he drops down to shove his face into Draco’s shoulder.  

Draco can feel Harry’s heart beating so hard it almost feels like his own, their chests pressed together, sticky and sweat-soaked, and their hands joined as Harry huffs out an exhausted whimper into his neck.

“Mmm, I missed you, Draco.”  His voice is heavy and Draco doesn’t need to see his face to know his eyes are probably already falling shut.  He rolls Harry over gently, pulling out of him and running his fingers through the other man's tangled mess of hair soothingly when Harry whines at the loss.  He grabs his wand off the side table and cleans them up with a quick cleaning charm.  It takes less than a minute before Harry is out cold, his mouth open slightly and his chest rising and falling softly.

Draco rolls his eyes in fond exasperation, sighing as he drops his head back onto his own pillow.  He is tempted to roll Harry right out of bed because it seems horribly unfair that sex makes Harry sleepy but makes Draco’s brain feel wired as if he won’t sleep for hours.  

Draco hates being woken up in the middle of the night, but as he presses his face into Harry’s hair and wraps himself around the other man from behind, he thinks maybe it's not so bad.  

In the end, he doesn’t sleep, just listens to the sound of Harry’s steady breathing, his own hand over Harry’s chest feeling his heartbeat slow, and knowing with utter certainty that this is what love feels like.


End file.
